


Sweet

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathaniel Gold had a particular set of skills, and just occasionally, someone was desperate enough to call on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of the Rumbelle Secret Santa for Daylilium, with a prompt for a bakery AU.

Nathaniel Gold swung the van into the car park of the hotel complex.

He hadn’t been there before, and definitely not in a business capacity, but they had had a call from a woman late the previous afternoon. Normally, they didn’t take last minute orders, but the woman offered double the normal premium and Nathaniel was the one to take the call.

He wasn’t a soft touch, but he could recognise desperation when he heard it.

His staff insisted he was crazy to agree to take it on at such short notice, but they didn’t have many orders in, and he always did like a challenge. Gina had rolled her eyes as she scrubbed down the surfaces in the pastry section of the kitchen.

Bread was his speciality, but just once in a while, he liked to indulge in cakes.

“You sure you don’t need someone to stay back and help, boss?” Jeff had asked, dusting flour off his hands.

Nathaniel shook his head. “There are some things I do better alone,” he said. “Any of your dough needing turned, while I’m here?”

Jeff grinned. “You giving me the evening off?”

“Consider it repayment for that night the oven fan broke,” Gold replied. Jeff saluted, beaming, and headed out into the evening. Normally, he was the late shift, but Gold knew he would appreciate all the time he could get with his kid.

Only when the kitchen was still and silent did Gold set to work. He managed to grab two hours sleep between the cake being baked and ready for icing, when he dozed in the office above the bakery. It meant he was running on coffee by the time he reached the hotel.

The hotel complex was grand and sprawling. He paused at the entrances to service areas, and checked for the door number, before driving onwards. A woman was waiting at the door, hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun, and she smiled, waving him in to the parking bay.

Gold opened the door, stepping down from the van.

“Hi,” the woman said, smiling and holding out a hand. “I’m Rose French, events coordinator.”

“Nat Gold,” he replied, taking her hand and shaking it. She looked fresh as a daisy, in a gold sundress and kitten heels. She’d sounded too rushed, too business-like on the phone. He hadn’t pictured a pretty brunette with laughing blue eyes. He wished that he’d had a chance to change or shave or something before bringing the order in, but it had only been finished for an hour, and she had requested that it was delivered as soon as possible. He motioned to the back of the van. “Want to see it?”

“Please.” She followed him to the doors. “You’re a lifesaver, Mr Gold.”

He unlocked the door. “If you don’t mind me asking, one day’s notice for a wedding cake?”

She made a face, wrinkling her nose. “The bride’s family were delivering the cake yesterday afternoon,” she said. “We offered to transfer it in, but they said they wanted to be sure it got there intact.” He saw her lips twitch. “The bride’s brother tripped over his own feet going up the stairs and dropped two of the four tiers.”

“They weren’t salvageable?”

“Not after he fell on top of them,” she said.

He opened up the back of the van, unlatching the secure rack that held the boxes in place. An e-mail had been sent over with the details of how the cake was meant to look, so he opened the box containing the top tier, which was the most ornate, decorated with tiny, intricate pink sugar roses.

Miss French leaned closer, looking in at it. “Oh, that’s beautiful,” she said. “Far better than their original one.”

Gold wasn’t sure why he was so pleased at her commendation. He closed the lid down. “Do you have a trolley we could use to transport it?” he asked. “Just to be on the safe side.”

She laughed. “Of course,” she said.

It took less than ten minutes to get all the tiers of the cake safely inside, and to the room where the wedding reception was going to be held.

Nathaniel looked around the room. From the look of things, the theme for the wedding was tacky. He glanced at Miss French, who was setting up the stand for the cake. “You organised this?” he asked.

She glanced at him, and the glint was back in her eyes. “The D’Occras are very particular about what their little girl wanted.” Her dainty nose wrinkled again. “There’s no accounting for taste.” She opened up one of the cake boxes, gazing down at the cake again. “At least one part of it will look like camp and cliché didn’t throw up all over it.”

“Here,” he said, stepping alongside her, his hands overlapping hers at the edge of the cake tray. “I’ll set it up.”

“Don’t trust me not to drop your masterwork?” she asked, withdrawing her hands with a smile.

“I don’t trust the packing to hold,” he said frankly. He set the top tier carefully on the stand. “And to be quite honest, I wouldn’t put it past you to have tied the bride’s brother’s shoelaces together on principle, when he didn’t trust your people.” He looked at her. “You don’t seem the type to take such a slight well.”

Miss French laughed. “Damn! And I thought I was so careful to maintain the sweetness and light facade.”

He found himself smiling in turn, which was a rare thing in itself. Working in a bakery meant his hours were considered antisocial at best, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to a woman who wasn’t his ex-wife or an employee or one of the suppliers.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he said, setting the second tier in place, “what made you call my bakery?”

Miss French drew out one of the seats nearby to watch him arrange a cascade of sugar roses to link the two tiers. “You have quite a reputation,” she said.

Nathaniel glanced at her. “Is that so?” he said, using a delicate syringe of icing to pick out tiny leaves on the pale icing and disguise the points where fine wires held the tumbling roses in place.

“Very selective about your customers, but excellent at what you do,” she said. “I honestly didn’t believe you would say yes, especially at such short notice.”

One side of his mouth turned up and he set the syringe down. “I was intrigued, dearie,” he said.

“Ah, yes,” she said with a rueful smile. “My promise of a small fortune.”

“Oh, no, no,” he said with a small smile. “You said you would owe me.”

Rose looked at him in surprise. “That intrigued you? Not the cheque I have waiting?”

“Cheques are a dime a dozen,” he said, arranging the third tier. “I want something a bit more…” He glanced at her. “Precious.”

She propped her elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. “And what’s that, Mr Gold?”

He gazed at her, young, bright-eyed, smiling. Well, he didn’t get out of the kitchens much, so he knew it was worth a try, even if he got shot down in sugar-coated flames. “Your phone number?”

Rose French seemed to calm and collected to blush, but she did all the same, almost as pink as the decorations all around them. “My phone number?” she echoed. “That’s precious?”

He lifted one shoulder, cautiously, turning his attention back to the cake. “Perhaps.” He looked at her from the corner of his eye.

She was looking at him thoughtfully. “Deal,” she said finally.

He almost jabbed the syringe into the cake. “What?”

She opened up her clipboard and removed her business card turning it over and scribbling her number on the back of it. “You can have my personal number,” she said with a smile. “And if you don’t call it some time in the next week, I’ll take it as a personal slight, and you know how well I take those.”

He stared at it, then at her. “You’re serious?”

Her rosy lips turned up in a smile. “You saved my ass,” she said. “I would say that’s worth at least one date. And you get a free pass to a second for doing such a good job on such short notice.”

Nathaniel blinked at her foolishly. It was one thing to be bold enough to ask for a girl’s number. It was another entirely to have her agree to it and offer two dates on the back of it. “Yes,” he said. “That sounds fine.”

She rose from the table, coming that little bit closer to him. “And here’s a bit of advice, gratis,” she murmured, touching him lightly on the arm. “I like a man who’s good with his hands.”

He very almost wasn’t right that second.

Rose laughed. “I’ll get out of your way,” she said. “I don’t want to distract you.” She squeezed his forearm, her hand small and warm. “Your cheque will be in reception for you to pick up.” He watched her walk away, clipboard under her arm, and she threw a smile back over her shoulder at him. “Don’t forget,” she called back. “I better get a call some time in the next seven days, or I’ll find you.”

Nathaniel was still grinning when he returned to his van half an hour later.


End file.
